“I think someone is using our bank account! There’s this random $100 charge.”
“Johnny, remember? I got my hair cut.”
“I know you got your hair cut, but what does that have to do with this $100 cha… NO! SERIOUSLY?!”
And so only a few weeks into our budding marriage, I was introduced to the extremely sensitive topic of women and haircuts.
Prior to marriage, I thought I had a decent idea of some of the new expenses I’d incur with a ladyfriend. After all, I had two sisters, dated a handful of girls, and watched my fair share of chick flicks (and hated all of them… OK, a few were tolerable). But nothing, nothing, could have prepared me for the cost, frequency, and general animosity I’d feel toward haircuts in marriage.
It might help to explain my history with hair. I, like most mammals, have hair. For as long as I’ve controlled my own hair, I do two or three haircuts a year. I bought a clipper set years ago for like $30 bucks. I have Joanna clip with a 5 and 6 on top, 2 and 3 on the sides, and then let it grow out until it becomes too long to maintain. That’s how I roll.
That doesn’t mean I’m not particular about my hair. I know the different looks I like. I’m also extremely on edge when Joanna clips my hair because she has this really weird tendency to burst into laughter about half way into my haircut for absolutely no reason. To all wives/future hair stylists/barbers: never ever, ever, EVER start laughing when you’re giving a haircut. Your vulnerable subject sitting in the chair can only assume that you messed things up so bad that laughter is the only answer.
But I digress. My haircuts probably cost, oh, $1 a pop. And as the lifespan of my clippers grows, that cost continues to shrink. Joanna on the other hand? We’re talking anywhere from $75 to $200. Don’t get me started on the $200 one. Seriously. Don’t. To make matters worse, half the time Joanna gets her hair done, she comes home and complains about how awful it looks and how it makes her face look this way or that. Then I have to find it deep within me to console her instead of tending to my aching wallet in my pocket.
I understand that girls have different hair needs than guys. Cut, highlights, blah blah. But $100 to use some scissors to chop off some filamentous biomaterial? It’s not totally Joanna’s fault, either. She’s “shopped” stylist deals, but “cheap” is still anything but cheap. And she’s limited to number of trips to the salon to two or three times a year. But when I offer suggestions, like getting it chopped and highlighted at one of those hair salons at the front of grocery stores, she stares angrily into my soul. On a few occasions, I’ve talked her into doing hair coloring from “box color” at home instead of forking over big bucks at a salon, so she has made concessions. In fact, I mostly blame the industry. Don’t get me wrong. Those hair stylists deserve to get paid. But this is madness.
What say ye wise OFB readers? Do I need to develop more follicle compassion? Or am I justified in questioning Joanna’s expensive hair needs?
(Original photo by booleansplit)